


A Southern Belle in King Arthur's Court

by TheLastComment



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:22:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastComment/pseuds/TheLastComment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma, a smart, curious girl from the South (but in no way "Southern," except in occasional enjoyment of football and having manners), embarked on a trip to see the London Olympics, along with other sights in the UK. One night on the tour bus however, Emma drifts a bit further than into her dreams into the adventure of her wildest dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time Travel and Burnt Feet

**Author's Note:**

> This was one of my earlier fanfictions, started sometime during season 3 or 4 of Merlin, so my characterization isn't the best or most consistent in the early chapters, and it doesn't involve any of the canon from season 5, and I took some liberties with other portions of the canon, as Arthurian lore isn't exactly set in stone. I've been working on later chapters lately though, and I figured since I liked the ideas I had I'd go ahead and post it. As it evolves, I may find ways to integrate more of the canon that I left out, and characterization will be a lot better.

Something didn’t feel right beneath me when I woke up. I didn’t feel like I was sleeping in my semi-comfortable bus seat. I felt like I was sleeping on the ground.

Where was I? And more importantly, why was I sleeping on the ground? I sprang up and looked around. Forest, forest, forest, aha! High stone wall. Civilization! I walked to the stone wall to meet disappointment. It was a castle wall. And certainly not from the Cinderella Castle at Disney World. Disney isn’t London, but, well, it’s still fun.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw guards coming. They looked very medieval, with their chain mail armor and everything. Medieval or not, I didn’t think I’d want to cross them. They just didn’t seem like the forgiving type. Well, more like the ‘I’m silent and have no identity; I just follow orders’ type. Except they had to have some identity because they were talking very animatedly.

Genius moment! Maybe these half-brainless guards can tell me where I am. They have to know that.

“Excuse me, where am I?” I asked them as they neared me.

“You? At the moment?” the guard asked, laughing. “Outside the walls of Camelot. But you’d be better off inside. There’s said to be a ferocious creature lurking in the woods.”

Good to know. “Thank you,” I replied. I’m thinking it’s a good thing I woke up. I’d rather not be near that creature whenever it attacks. I started walking the way that the guards had come from, very pleased with myself for coming up with this whole dream. It was very real and lifelike. I figured that I could get into the city since they had to have come out of it from somewhere.

Eventually, I reached the gates. There were more guards there, but they were just lazily standing there, watching to make sure nobody did anything illegal. Probably the highlight of their days was raising and lowering the giant iron gates that I noticed above my head as I was walking in at the beginning and ends of each day.

What do you do when you’re dreaming you’re in a medieval Utopia? Go shopping? Meet people? Save the day? Skulk? A combination thereof? The possibilities are endless…

I wandered around the market until midday, when I stubbed my toe, very hard, on an upturned rock. That’s when alarm bells went off in my mind. You can’t hurt yourself in dreams. I can’t recall one where I ever have. And I’ve had a few insane dreams. Like this one where this creepy stuffed toy was flying around my house and I was flying after it, totally self-sufficient and unsupported by anything but sheer will to catch that toy. And this other one, where I could jump down to the bottom stair from the top stair as easily as jumping down the last two or three steps. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. This doesn’t seem right that I can feel pain if I’m dreaming. I mean, I can feel my toe throbbing a lot. I won’t want to dance on this in the near future.

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!” a voice shouted at me. Too late. I wasn’t watching in all of my thinking about dreams and stubbed toes and walked right into a fire fueling an oven that was baking bread. It was very hot, I can tell you that. My feet felt like they were in total agony, I forgot all about that stubbed toe. Thankfully, I reacted naturally and jumped back, and some nice person poured water over my feet to extinguish my burning shoes. All of my clothes were period attire, so the shoes were leather and my dress was smoldering. After the water, though, my shoes were crisps and the skirt of my dress drenched.

The pain in my feet flared as I tried to move away from the scene, and I couldn’t take it, I fainted. (Which I must say is the first time that’s ever happened.) I vaguely remember hearing someone say that I needed to see the physician for burn treatment. Good, my feet are killing me.

•••

When I came back around, my feet felt nice and cool. I looked around and found myself in a rather bizarre room. There were worktables all over, and the amount of stuff on them reminded me of what my desk back at home looked like when I wasn’t keeping up with my cleaning. I looked down at my feet and found them wrapped in cloth bandages, and, upon closer inspection, covered in some sort of green paste.

“Hello?” I asked out into the empty room.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice behind me said. I guess I had forgotten to look around behind me. “Those are some nasty burns. How do you walk into an oven in the first place?”

“I stubbed my toe and was thinking about random dreams I had when I was about three or four years old,” I said. “Who are you anyways?”

“Oh, I’m Merlin,” the voice replied. “I’m Prince Arthur’s servant, though he’s practically taken up all of the king’s duties. Of course, that means that I’m just working more and more. Who are you exactly? I’ve never seen you before, and I’ve seen some characters around here.”

“I’m Emmaline, but everyone I know calls me Emma. Well, thanks for whatever you put on my feet, Merlin,” I said. “They feel nice and cool and not burnt.”

“That wasn’t me,” he said. “Trust me. I’m not the best with medicine. It was the court physician, Gaius, who put the herbal mix and bandages on. He just asked me to wait here with you until he got back from some errand. Well, thinking about it now, I probably could have put all of the paste and bandages on, I would just never know what paste to make or how to make it.”

“Okay. At least I know I’m not dreaming.”

“Huh? Dreaming?”

“Well, I fell asleep while I was traveling with some friends.” Of course he wouldn’t know what a bus is. This _is_ medieval Camelot we’re talking about here. “And next thing I know, I’m on the forest floor outside of here. Is this really Camelot?”

“The one and only. Again, pretty much run by the one and only Prince Arthur. Just don’t ask me why some people like him so much. Yeah, he does nice stuff sometimes. But most of the time, he’s a big-headed, self-serving, idiot. Yet again, not everyone has to deal with him, all day, every day, so I guess they wouldn’t realize that. So what were you saying?”

“Well, I fell asleep, woke up here, and I’m not sure whether I’m dreaming or not. Signs point to not, because my toe really hurt when I stubbed it, and I felt like my feet were going to fall off when I walked into that oven. Come to think of it, I’m not sure how I walked into the oven, seeing as I’ve never been exceptionally klutzy. I mean, I’ve had my klutzy moments, but never that severe. I’ve never hurt myself beyond a bruise or stubbed toe or biting my tongue, or slamming my finger in the door. Well, there was that one time when I was running around trying to chase my friends with my eyes closed, but that was just a stupid idea. I’m not really sure where I came up with it, now that I think of it.” Then, I looked around and realized that I was randomly jabbering on about silly things I had done. “Sorry about that. I can get off topic a bit when I’m talking on and on. Especially when I’m writing my friends. Like, they’ll answer a question of mine, and ask another simple question, and next thing I know, I’ve written a whole load of unrelated stuff, pretty much talking on and on and on.”

“So you’re definitely not from here, and you’re definitely not dreaming?”

“Pretty much. And don’t ask me how I got into this trouble in the first place. I was simply going to sleep, it was late at night, and then I woke up here. I think you can figure out the rest of what happened.”

“Bit obvious, considering your feet, isn’t it?”

“Hmm… Yeah, I guess it is.”

“And you definitely don’t know how you got here?”

“If I knew how I got here, I probably would have gone back by now. I’d rather not have burned feet, thank you very much.”

“You can’t tell anyone about arriving here in your sleep.”

“Why? Maybe someone could help me get back to when and where I came from.”

“Did you say when?”

“Yeah. By my estimates, I’m from over 1500 years in the future.”

“Definitely don’t tell anyone. You’d probably be dead in a heartbeat, considering Uther and his laws. If there’s one thing Uther still insists on overseeing, even though he’s half mad, it’s council meetings and trials, especially when there’s magic involved. Although, now that I think of it, he does seem more alert when there’s someone mentions magic. Really, though, if Arthur was king, you’d probably just be banished. Or really, since all you did was accidentally walk into that oven, it’d probably be made sure you recovered and didn’t bother people.”

“Right. So, since I’m here, what exactly do I do? I’ve got a feeling that I won’t be going back to the future anytime soon.”

“Get a job. Blend in. Don’t make any trouble. If you just say you came from some distant village that has no name, nobody will question you.”

“What’s that look on your face? You look like you’re trying to figure something out.”

“You’re good at guessing. There has to be magic… I hear someone coming. Whatever happens, we were only discussing how in the world you walked into an oven. I think we both prefer our heads on our shoulders.”

At that I thought of a ghost from a book who would do anything for it to not be there and smiled to myself. I was also wondering why he would be concerned about keeping his head. He’s not the one who traveled back in time 1500 years.

The man who was apparently the court physician walked in.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said. “We need to see if you can stand up on your feet or not. Otherwise you could be bedridden for bit of time.” Merlin was still standing in the corner and smiled. I had a feeling that that smile said he was sure I wasn’t going to be bedridden. “Well, go ahead, try to stand up.”

I slid myself off of the bed/table I was on, and gently applied pressure to my feet. “Ow!” I said, as I moved a majority of my weight to my feet. When I had most of my weight on my arms and the table, I was fine. As soon as it was on my feet though, my feet exploded in pain. Kinda reminded me of the day my family and I walked around Washington, D.C. for about 9 or 10 hours, practically straight. I was able to stand, buy I certainly wouldn’t want to walk much more than around the room.

“And?” the physician asked.

“Well, it hurts like my feet have never hurt before, but I can stand, and could probably manage a few steps.” I tried to walk at that, and, slowly, painfully, managed a step.

“That’s good. The tissue isn’t burned too deep. I expect you’ll make a full recovery, but will probably have scars and some pain for the long term. Merlin, I assume that Arthur is waiting for you.”

“Actually, I had today as a holiday for some reason. Something about going to meet Gwen, I think. I actually got a holiday for once.”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t mind helping take care of, what’s your name?”

“Emma,” I answered.

“Yes, well, I’m sure you won’t mind.” And with that, the physician left us alone.

“Probably going back to see Uther,” Merlin explained. “He’s tried to help him regain his sanity, but I’m just not sure how much is left. Every solution has only been temporary, enough for a public appearance here, another one there, and they’re losing their effectiveness.”

“So why hasn’t Arthur inherited the title?” I asked. It only seemed logical that if the king was insane, the heir would become king.

“Well, I actually looked it up for Arthur,” Merlin said, as if this was totally normal. “Apparently, according to some law, the current king must either abdicate or be physically incapable of performing his duties for the heir to ascend the throne. Uther wouldn’t dream of relinquishing his title, no matter how much he believes in Arthur being able to take the throne, and, physically, he’s still fit. His head’s just gone loopy, and there’s nothing in there about that.”

“Seems a bit odd, but okay. What were you saying earlier? Something about magic?”

“Yeah. There has to be magic involved with your appearance. It’s the only explanation. Only problem is, I have no clue what to do about it. Either way, we’ve both got to keep our tongues tied on this matter. Back to keeping our heads. Then again, given Uther’s twisted mind, he may decide to extend your burns.”

“I’d rather not be burnt. And, how badly burnt were my feet? I never did actually see them.”

“Well, the shoes you were wearing saved you from the worst, probably. As it was, your feet were all red and black and dry, and definitely burnt looking. But I’m sure they’ll look better once they’ve healed.”

“Told you I get off topic. We were talking about magic, and how I got here.”

“Well, it is the only explanation I can think of. I just want to know, why here and now?”

Someone was coming. We both stopped talking.

“Hello?” a female voice called.

“Morgana,” Merlin said, and from his face, I could tell he wasn’t sure what to think.

A moment later, someone walked in. “I heard that a girl got burnt in an oven,” she said.

“That’s me,” I said. “And it was just my feet. I wasn’t looking where I was going until too late.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m glad to see that you’re doing okay, though.”

“Thank-you,” I replied.

An awkward silence followed. Morgana spoke next.

“If you ever need anything, my good friend Gwen and I will be happy to help you. And I do hope you recover soon.”

“Thanks,” I replied. Morgana left. After she was gone, Merlin and I resumed talking.

“I can never tell whether or not it’s a good idea to trust her,” Merlin remarked. “One moment, she’s trying to help you with something, and the next she’s trying to topple Uther or kill Arthur, or both, for that matter. But I know Gwen is trustworthy. You should be able to trust her and Morgana for now, since you’re just the girl who got burnt in the oven.”

“So you have no idea how I’m here, why I’m here, or for how long I’m here. Besides that there’s magic involved?” I confirmed.

“But whose magic?” Merlin asked, trying to figure it out himself. “I can’t think of anyone here who would want to randomly summon someone from the future, so you must have magic of your own to have made it here. It just doesn’t make sense.”

It seemed ridiculous in my mind, but it also made sense. Well, it didn’t exactly make sense, but somewhere in the back of my mind it felt right.


	2. Suspicions

I had to sit around in bed for another week before I could stand for long periods of time. Morgana had been right about her friend, Gwen, which was apparently short for Guinevere. Once my feet were deemed healthy enough to be out of constant care, I was moved to Gwen’s chambers, for reasons unknown to myself. I still had to try and keep off them and rub this weird paste on them, but at least I had something to do. Since I still couldn’t go out for long periods of time, I stayed in Gwen’s chambers all day, doing pretty much nothing.

While living with Gwen, I discovered she was in quite a peculiar situation. She had been a servant, but, with the timing of her and Arthur falling in love and Uther’s descent to insanity, Arthur was able to make her as close to nobility as possible. She was, in essence, a courtier, but didn’t have all of the titles to go with it. And didn’t have a maid. But the dresses and food, they were exactly the same as any other courtier would have had, if not a smidge better (again, because of Arthur).

By the time my feet were completely healed (not the way they were before, but as good as they’d get), it had been two whole months. Since I couldn’t walk around much, I had started sewing, considering that I couldn’t keep wearing the same dress that I came here in (only the bottom was burnt, and I cut it off) and Gwen’s old clothes. It took a bit of time to figure out some of the stitches, but I’ve been doing okay at it. At first, I wasn’t good enough to make clothes for a living, but good enough that I could wear my creations without embarrassment, but now I’m getting better. Gwen was apparently one of the best seamstresses, and helped me a lot.

Anyway, my slow-paced life went out the door as soon as I walked out of Gwen’s door for the first time to do more than wander the nearby hallways to relieve the monotony of sitting around all day sewing.

Apparently, my burning had been a popular topic of discussion among the townspeople, and had become the running joke. People had expected me to recover enough to be able to walk again, but for me to have disfiguring scars and terrible pain, to the point that I was stuck sewing and doing housework for the rest of my life, never able to get a job (unless I was sewing). So when I walked out to the market, people stopped and stared, talking behind my back. I couldn’t see why they would. Most the time, if the burns weren’t extremely serious, people made full recoveries. I mean, I know this isn’t the 21st century, but still, I received immediate treatment, which always helps. And my feet themselves weren’t licked by the flames and touched by the embers, that was my shoes, which were beyond repair.

So, I was walking through town, totally ignoring all of the staring faces and whispering, and definitely making sure that I didn’t walk into anything. I don’t know how bizarre it would be for me to end up injuring myself as soon as I recovered from my burns. Certainly it would be a record, except that records weren’t being kept back here. Well, records of important people were, but, like, numerical records weren’t. Since I didn’t have any money of my own, I couldn’t buy anything, but it was nice to look. There were people selling all kinds of stuff- farming stuff, probably for nearby villages; clothes, from the simple to the extravagant; and food, fruits, bread, dairy, meat.

I went back to Gwen’s chambers after only about an hour; my feet had started to hurt. I guess it would take a bit of time for them to be used to lots of walking, and they never really could walk a whole, long day with minimal breaks.

The rest of my day was quiet. I tried sewing a bit more- I was practicing a particularly hard stitch. I needed to get good at sewing. And I had reason to, now. When I was walking around, I saw a shop that had the most beautiful dresses and fabric in it. I knew I’d never be able to make anything like them. And there were shoes in there. I didn’t have a pair of properly fitting shoes since the ones I were had were given to me a sympathetic family who had no more need for them since their youngest child had outgrown them.

That night, while I was trying to fall asleep, I thought I heard something outside. I tiptoed to the door to look, but had only a limited view. I saw a shadow of a person, and it wasn’t wearing the armor that guards wore, or another courtier. That struck me as slightly suspicious. Who would be moving around in the middle of the night in silence and stealth?

I made a quick decision to step outside and see if I could get a better view. Thankfully, the door was well oiled, so it didn’t creek, squeak, or groan as I opened it.

I looked left and right and finally found the source of the disruptions. Someone in a cloak was sneaking about. Their back was to me, so I couldn’t tell anything about them. But there was definitely something important there. I could feel it. It was as if it had power and I could feel the vibrations in my bones. The person looked back, and I was a deer caught in headlights, paralyzed. They were undoubtedly checking for guards, but I’m sure other eyes were just as unwelcome. Convinced there was nobody there, the mysterious person continued on. Curiosity got the best of me, and I decided to follow, keeping extra quiet and to the shadows.

I followed them out of the castle and through the town. We reached the gates, which were still open, and the mysterious person veered off to the right as soon as he/she got past them. I decided that I’d better follow, I’d come this far, and wasn’t going to give up.

I peered around the wall, keeping myself on the inside of it. Easier to hide, and I still hadn’t heard anything about the fate of that creature that the guards had mentioned when I arrived here. Whoever it was, they apparently had stopped a bit away along the wall, stooping down for something, whether to pick up or drop off I don’t know. Oops, they’re coming back now. I need to hide, and fast. Hmmm… Options, brain. Behind the crate, around that corner, or in that doorway. I like the crate. Easy to get to, easy to see over without being seen, and hard to spot me behind. I dashed over to the crate and sat down behind it, keeping my eyes trained on the gates where the stranger would be coming back in.

When my mystery person walked back in, I decided that they were definitely female. They were wearing a dress, and their posture and body type did not at all look masculine.

I gave up on the pursuit when they went into a private residence. I can’t follow them into there, and they could be staying the night there. I walked back to the castle and Gwen’s chambers as silently as I could, and kept to the shadows.

•••

Gwen shook me awake in the morning. “There are guards coming down here for you,” she said, a bit out of breath and definitely concerned for my safety.

“Why?” I asked. Last I checked, there wasn’t a curfew, and I don’t think anybody saw me last night.

“Someone decided to blame your speedy recovery on magic,” she explained. “They thought that the fact that you recovered the way you did was impossible.”

I only had time to get dressed when guards burst in. I didn’t resist, and Gwen reassured me not to worry about anything. There wasn’t any foundation to the accusations.

“Do you know why you have been brought here?” the king asked. I had been unceremoniously thrown to the floor after being brought in.

“All I was told was that it was something to do with my feet,” I replied.

“You have been accused of using magic to quicken and increase the healing of your feet, which I understand were severely burnt approximately two and a half months ago,” were the charges presented. “Do you admit that your feet were burnt at that time?”

“Yes.”

“And do you admit to using magic or consorting with sorcerers?”

“I have done no such thing. I have been only in the care of the physician and Guinevere.” Now didn’t seem the time to call her by her everyday name. Now seemed the time for proper names.

“Thank you for that account,” was all I was told. The king turned his attention to the physician. “You do acknowledge that her feet were badly burnt at the time she was brought to you?”

“Yes. Thankfully, someone was wise enough to get her out of the oven and pour cold water over her feet, which greatly decreased the damage that could have been done,” was the reply. “Also, her shoes absorbed most of the heat and protected her feet from most of the flames.”

“When she was brought to you, what sort of treatment did you give her?”

“An herbal remedy, which cools and heals the skin. It is commonly found at many forges for the treatment of small burns acquired from the work.”

“Was there anyone else who has individually spent time with her while in your care?”

“Only your son’s servant.”

“And are the results illustrated by her typical?”

“Such burns are not common, as is the scenario, but her recovery is very possible, given the circumstances or her feet being protected and the immediate treatment.”

“Thank you. Emma of nowhere, you are cleared of all charges. Mary, you have been sentenced to a month in prison on account of bringing false and unfounded accusations to your king.”

Everyone left after this. I thought that poor Mary’s sentence was a bit unfair, but I’m not the one that makes the rules. I’m told that I should be glad that Uther wasn’t feeling too biased and pigheaded today; that he could have just as easily had me killed after a very brief and opinionated trial. Apparently, today his sanity medications are working in my benefit.

•••

I found a note on my bed when I was going to bed that night. It was sloppily written but beautifully folded. It read:

_Dear Emmaline,_

_I know very well that you followed me to the gates of Camelot last night, and I cannot blame your curiosity._

_I also know that you come from the future. You ought to be more careful about what you say here in Camelot. Had a guard overheard you, you would have been dead before the week ended._

_If you want answers about why you are here, to meet me, and discover what it was that I was so stealthily hiding last night, meet me at midnight at the same gates as you followed me to last night._

_Always there for Uther’s enemies,_

_Analizabell_

Okay… Well, nice offer. Definitely interesting. But when did I define myself as an enemy of Uther? I mean sure, he’s harsh, cruel, opinionated, and a bit tyrannical, (so I’ve heard. Now, he just lives in his chambers, with a few public appearances) but I’m not an enemy. And she certainly has an interesting name. Hmm… Well, I’m not committing to anything by visiting her, and it would be nice to at least have some ideas. I’m going.

So that’s how I was out wandering the streets of Camelot at five minutes till midnight, by my best guesses and watching candles. A bell will toll from the castle at midnight, but then I’d be late.

“Hello?” I asked into the air as I reached the gate. It wasn’t that hard to find, considering that noting much had changed over the last 24 hours.

“Quiet, over here,” a voice whispered to my right. I moved towards the voice and a hand gripped me. “We need to go to the woods, where we can’t be overheard.”

“Okay,” I skeptically replied, following who I could only assume to be Analizabell into the woods.

“You received my message?” she asked.

“Why else would I be here?” I replied. “And I have a question. When did I define myself as an enemy of Uther?”

“Your existence makes you his natural enemy,” she explained, her voice almost a purr. “Uther hates anyone and anything having to do with magic. Yes, I know you arrived here through magic. There is a lot that I know that people do not know I know.”

“That doesn’t mean I hate him. He’s certainly not on my list of favorite people in the world, but he’s also not on my kill list.”

 _That puts a damper on things_ , I heard in my mind.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” she replied.

“You said ‘That puts a damper on things.’”

“I did not.”

“I heard it clear as day.”

 _She has more power than I thought. This could be challenging. I ought to hope she also does not have a feel for it. And that that boy hasn’t gotten to her yet._ I heard that voice yet again. And it sounded suspiciously like Analizabell’s.

“What did you say?” I asked again.

“I have said nothing, besides asking you why you imagined I was saying something.”

I could hear the truth in her voice and decided not to push it. She was obviously annoyed, and I wanted to know what she knew about me.

“So why am I here? You said you knew why.”

“You are not really from the future. This is the time you really belong to.”

“Huh?”

“The girl whose name you bear, she was from the future, and nearly died at birth. Here, in this time, in a faraway village that has no name, another baby girl was born who also nearly died. This girl was born to a great destiny of magic and bravery in Camelot. To save their daughter, the parents took her to a sorceress, who ended the baby’s life with magic, which caused another baby to gain life, and the destiny of the girl from a village with no name. You are that girl. The magic from that day has left its eternal mark on you. Because the two girls are one and the same through that magic, now yours, you are from both ages. You have the body of a girl from the twenty first century, but the destiny of a girl from today. But the girl of today, when we speak, is more powerful. It is how you came here. I assume that you lived somewhere far from Albion?”

“If by far you mean the large majority of my life in America, then yeah.”

“It is only now that you have returned to Albion that you have returned to this time. I guess you slipped through in your sleep?”

“I guess. I took a nap and woke up here.

“So what were you hiding last night?”

“A book. A book that contains secrets of magic. It had been missed when Uther initially banned magic a score of years ago, and I have only just now been able to infiltrate the library to retrieve it. I could never stand for it to be burnt or otherwise destroyed. I will be leaving Camelot tomorrow, to try and save other magical tomes, but I’m sure you’ll need it. So long as this remains its hiding spot, you are welcome to this book. Do you see that little hole in the wall? There’s enough space for two people in there, and you need only say the command- ‘Libreveltu’ – for it to be revealed. I must return to my room and gather my belongings; I’m worried that a servant is suspicious of me. Farewell.”

“Bye,” I said, but Analizabell had already disappeared.

Hmm… I wonder which servant. I only know one, and one former one, and the current one seems like a better candidate for Analizabell’s reference. Looks like I’m going to be venturing out tomorrow. Well, really today, since it’s past midnight, but oh well.

•••

I tried to remain acting as normal as possible the whole next morning. I went to the market, more to look than anything, since I still had no money, obviously. But my plan was still brewing at the back of my mind. I had only formulated it a few hours ago, since I was exhausted from yesterday and went immediately to sleep when I arrived back at Gwen’s. Gwen woke up extremely happy, and wouldn’t tell me why. She then proceeded to pick out and put on her best clothes. My memory slipped back to when I had woken up and met Merlin, who had talked about Arthur giving him a holiday so that he (Arthur) could go and spend the day with Gwen. That had to have been what Gwen was so happy about this morning. Which means that Merlin probably has another holiday today. Now it’s just a matter of finding him…

… Which turned out to be pretty easy. Even when he’s supposedly on holiday, Arthur still has Merlin working, but as a friend and not as a servant. I ran into him at the gates, where I had met Analizabell only about twelve hours ago.

“Is now a good time to ask you a question relating to our last conversation?” I asked.

“Oh, hi,” was his initial reply. “I guess. Arthur had me bring him and Gwen their lunch. Everyone in Camelot but Uther thinks that go really well together. We’ll need somewhere private. If anyone overheard us, well, after yesterday… It’s the one rule that will stand in Camelot until Uther dies, or becomes so frail that he _is_ physically incapable of being king. Follow me.”

We ended up somewhere below the castle. I could tell the corridor we were in was long forgotten because of all the old cobwebs and carcasses. Of varying varieties. Including human.

“Have you ever met a woman named Analizabell?” I asked when we stopped.

“Dark haired, mysterious, pale skin, a bit tall?” Merlin asked.

“Exactly,” I said. “Last night, when I was about to go to bed, I found a note on my bed from her. I have it here.” I read the note, in its entirety. “When did I make myself an enemy of Uther?”

“I don’t know. Some people just assume that having magic makes you his enemy.”

“Pretty much what she replied when I asked her.”

“So what did she have to say?”

“A strange explanation for how I got here, and told me about what she was hiding when I tailed her the night before.”

“So how does she claim you got here?”

“This is going to sound insane, impossible.”

“Trust me, when you’ve been around Arthur as long as I have and saved his life as often and as many times as I have, those two words have no meaning.”

“Okay. She claims that I am really two people. It’s a really long-winded explanation.”

“Well I only have to leave to meet Arthur when he comes back at sunset.”

“Okay. Analizabell said that I am really two girls, one from a village with no name in this time, one from when I came from. Both were dying at birth. The one from here apparently had some destiny of ‘magic and bravery in Camelot,’ while the other just had a normal life ahead of her.”

“Where is this going?”

“So, the girl from the nameless village’s parents took her to some sorceress, who killed the girl with magic to give some other person’s life. The girl who gained life was the girl from the future. She was given the magic and destiny that the girl from the village would have had. According to Analizabell, through the magic that killed and gave life, the two girls are one and the same, but that the girl from the village was more powerful. Then she said something about the fact that I had only just now come to Camelot was because I lived far from Albion, wherever that is. My return, and my sleep, were apparently what allowed me to slip back in time. And I think she hinted that I could return to the future, too.”

“Okay. And what was she doing when you tailed her?”

“Hiding a box that contains secrets of magic. It’s literally under the castle wall, she smuggled it out of the library.”

“So that’s why I kept seeing her in the library. Sorry. What were you saying?”

“She also told me I was welcome to examine it, so long as it stays where it is.”

“You just walk to the alcove and look at it?”

“Well, there’s also some enchantments around it. To reveal the book, I have to say ‘Libreveltu.’ But otherwise, yes. At least, that’s what I understood.”


	3. A Knight in Shining Armor

The next length of time passed totally uneventfully. When Gwen got back in the evening, she was bubbling over with happiness. Obviously, she felt her day a day well spent.

A fortnight to the day after Merlin and I were talking in the carcass infested tunnels, a tournament began. Throughout the city, Arthur was the peoples’ favorite to win. I heard from someone that the only tournament he ever didn’t win was one where he let his father win, so he could have one last victory.

I woke up early with the rest of the city to watch the tournament. It had been the only topic of discussion among people in the streets, as its contestants had been arriving over the last few days, some of them practicing with Arthur and his knights. With the sewing that I had done since my arrival, I had some respectable dresses, so I picked my favorite one, a plain purple dress made of the best fabric I could get. I’m thinking about trying to get a job at one of the dress shops repairing dresses. I’ve actually gotten pretty good at small details. It’s just doing the same thing over and over again where I can mess up. Usually by going off of the line I was working on.

Everyone in the city made their way to the stadium set up for the tournament. I had an excellent seat, since I got to sit next to Gwen, who, as a courtier (and Arthur’s girlfriend), had front row seating.

The tournament was great fun to watch. Granted, I’d rather skip the gory scenes, but I, along with about half the stadium, looked away on those.

Arthur advanced with what seemed like ease, beating each successively harder opponent. There was a no break for lunch, but I noticed that some people slipped away and returned as they pleased throughout the day. The first day ended about midway through the afternoon with Arthur well poised to win, and another 11 in the contention. Only one man died, which is apparently good.

There was a feast in the evening for all of the participating knights and various important people (that most people don’t care about but would be offended if they weren’t invited). Gwen had to go somewhere for some reason, but came rushing back as the sun was going down, saying that one of the servants had fallen seriously ill and asking if I could please fill in. Considering that it would be paid work, I’d be attending a feast, and I might be able to nibble some of the leftovers, I accepted the invitation.

In preparation, considering that I’d have to look my best, I donned my newest creation, which was pale blue. The dress was simple enough, but I had done a little bit of pleating on the skirt and embellished the top with a bit of ruffling. Simple and elegance are the two words to describe it.

Among the various servants for the feast, my arrival was greeted with joy. I was apparently perfect, and my dress beautiful. My job description- carry platters of food from the kitchens to the tables. Someone else would be returning empty platters, so I simply had to watch for them to return with the empty ones to know when to take a new one out.

My perch at the side entrance to the hall was the perfect spot for observing happenings. I could see everyone, but nobody could see me. I spotted Gwen and Morgana numerous times, both of them conversing politely with the knights, complimenting them on their day, and, if I’m right, which I generally am, Morgana was flirting with some of them. Arthur was milling about; I guess he had a princely obligation to talk to everyone in attendance, because I could swear I saw a grimace on his face when talking with some of the more brutal, bandit-like warriors. Merlin seemed to appear and disappear; you’d get a glimpse of him, and then not see him for half an hour (By my extremely poor guess. Never rely on me to judge time).

Eventually, Uther invited everyone (meaning the guests, not the servants) to sit down for the main course. This was where I would be doing a lot of work. Previously, people were just milling about, maybe sampling some of the food. Now, they would truly feast.

I moved into action, picking up the first platter that was handed to me and taking it to the table where the king, prince, and Lady Morgana, along with the most esteemed guests, sat. From there, I grabbed more platters and moved onto the other tables, the closest to the farthest, since the more important guests were closer and the less were further away. Pretty much, the less important you were, the longer you had to wait.

I had a few minutes to myself when I had finished delivering platters, and my feet were starting to hurt. I went out into the hallway to sit down and rest them, because I didn’t want to cause any major damage to them. After a moment, I saw a shadow passing by. It looked like it belonged to one of the knights, mostly because it was wearing chain mail armor and a sword. I wondered what in the world a knight would be doing wandering the servants’ corridors during the feast and decided to follow.

“Need to find a way to…” he was grumbling “Too handy with a sword. Can’t beat him. Need, hmmm, a poison, to incapacitate, disable. Yes, enough to get him off balance. Maybe drowsy. That ought to be enough. Don’t want to be suspected in cheating. Or, I could just poison the whole lot of them in there. Lord Eldre would be very happy if Camelot was defended only by the peasants…once his armies arrived, we could have the kingdom within an hour. Assuming we kept the mass murder secret. Which would be very hard indeed. I can think of two kings who would be just as eager to invade, and have spies here.”

I could think of only one person who he would want to kill who was handy with a sword, if he didn’t go for the mass poisoning technique. Leaning around the corner, I saw it to be the came out of nowhere Knight Warrington from some distant place I hadn’t heard of.

Well, considering that I had all the evidence I needed to launch a personal investigation, I went back to the kitchens, where I happened to run into Merlin, who was getting more drink for Arthur, as per his duties.

“Knight Warrington is going to make an attempt at Arthur’s life, and maybe all of the guests’ lives,” I hurriedly whispered. “I think. I overheard him in the corridor.”

“What?” was the reply, also whispered, panic obvious.

“I don’t know how, when or where, but he’s definitely up to no good.”

“I never get a break around here, do I?”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, but I suppose not if you’re complaining.”

“You keep an eye on Knight Warrington, make sure he’s not up to anything. They should be another half hour with those platters, now that the main course is out.”

I set off, back down to where I had first spied Warrington, and careful to make note of where I was, not knowing my way around this area very well. He was still there, or, at least, had returned, seeing as he was carrying a bottle of wine. And muttering something over it. Sounded like he was going to poison someone, or many people. But why mutter? I listened in closely.

“Vienoc ma casdno Arthur Pendragon,” he said. There was a tingling feeling somewhere at the base of my head; it had to be magic. I could feel it. There was power behind those words. Warrington’s or other, it was there. Obviously, this blanket ban doesn’t work too well. And I also had a faint feeling what he was plotting. It was only a hunch, but it was all I had.

Knight Warrington moved, and I moved back.

“Girl!” he yelled. He spotted me. I could only hope he hadn’t overheard. “I need someone to carry this when I present it to Arthur Pendragon.”

“I’ll go find you someone, then, sir,” I replied. I wanted to get away from that lunatic.

“You will carry it,” he said, with an extra emphasis on the ‘you.’

“I’d be honored to, but I am required in the kitchens, they should be finishing the course around now,” I replied, really trying to get away. Honestly, I had no clue how much time had passed.

“Fine, go, return to your precious kitchens,” he sneered. “I have seen you watching from that hidden door. When I next leave the hall, meet me outside the main doors. You will carry my bottle then.”

“Yes sir,” I nervously agreed, hurrying back to the kitchen. This had to be an attempt at Arthur’s life in progress. I need Merlin now. Considering that he’s saved Arthur’s life enough times to consider the words impossible and insane to have little to no meaning, he’ll probably know what to do.

It was just my luck that he was in the kitchens again.

“Knight Warrington used magic. On a bottle of wine. He’s going to present it to Arthur, as a gift from his lord,” I gasped out, quietly. I’m not sure where half of it came from, but it all seemed exactly right, as if I had just plucked the information out of Warrington’s mind.

“Do you know what he said?” Merlin asked. This must be of the utmost importance in saving Arthur, to counter whatever Warrington did.

“It was ‘Vienoc ma casdno Arthur Pendragon.’” I was careful to say it without meaning, because the little instinct at the back of my mind told me bad things could happen if I even casually said it.

“Targeted sleeping draught,” Merlin summarized. “Anyone could drink it, but only Arthur would suffer from it.”

“So, what does it do, exactly, besides target only the named person?” I asked, truly curious.

“Well, it can vary.” Merlin looked out to the feast. “I’m sure we won’t be missed for a few minutes, we need to go get a book.”

I followed Merlin, wondering where in the world we could be going, figuring that the book we’d need would be of magic and that they were banned and destroyed.

I decided some friendly conversation couldn’t hurt.

“So, just curious, how many times have you saved Arthur’s life?” I asked.

“I’ve saved his sorry life so many times I’ve lost count. There was that old lady, these impostors, some weird beast. Honestly, I couldn’t count if I tried.”

“Um, where are we going exactly?”

“My chambers.”

“For a book. That’s going to help us.”

“Yep.”

“Could I have a little bit more explanation?”

Merlin whispered his reply. “We’re getting a book of magic from my room to save Arthur’s life.”

“Okay.” I made sure to include lots of skepticism. I followed without further comment. Time was of the essence here.

We made it to Merlin’s room, which was really small, but had a cozy feel to it. In truth, it reminded me of my room back at home- an organized disaster, which is what I saw it as.

“I like the organized chaos of your room,” I commented. “My room was like that. When I came from. Every now and then it would be 100% clean, but even then, my closet and drawers would never be.”

Merlin had opened the cupboard, which, like the room, was a bit cluttered. From there, there was a little panel on the bottom, which could be pried open to reveal a secret compartment. Viewed externally, it would just seem part of the construction. Quite genius if you asked me.

As soon as he had to book out, Merlin was thumbing through it. The book itself was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Everything about it looked aged, as if it had been passed on through generations of readers. The leather was worn smooth, but was still quite sturdy. The pages had that same aura to them- used but still in pristine condition. I also noticed that previous owners had made their own additions, whether by writing or sticking scraps of parchment in.

“Nothing,” was Merlin’s report when he had finished looking through the book. “Absolutely nothing. There’s plenty on casting them, but none on countering them.”

“So what do we do?” I asked, a bit panicky. “We obviously can’t let Arthur drink it, he’ll be off balance tomorrow and might die. Not just might, will, it’s Warrington’s plan.”

“Meet back here in half an hour. I doubt Warrington will interrupt the festivities until the end, when everyone is quite drunk and Arthur just won’t resist drinking a bit more. You go check that book Analizabell left, I’ve got my own source.”

“What if Warrington finds out what we’re up to? For all we know, he could try to kill us. I don’t know about you, but I know nothing about magic besides the fact that it’s banned here. Why do you have that book anyway?”

“I found it when I came here. Well, more like a voice in the back of my head was telling me where to go, but, technically, I found it. I’ve had to use it to save Arthur a few too many times.”

Obviously, I overlooked a bit of a detail. Well, a really _big_ detail. I always figured Merlin knew a bit about magic, what, with when I met him and everything, but never imagined him having it, using it. But, now that I thought about it, it made sense. Plus, my mind was able to reach back to my time in the future. It had become surprisingly hard to remember stuff from then; in fact, my mind had started manufacturing fake memories to take their place. They’d never be as precise, but I’d be able to pass them off as real. So, when my mind reached back to the hidden files of my time in the future, I remembered a nice bit of reading that I had done- Arthurian legends. I have no clue as to how I could have overlooked some of the most well-known, and re-written, created, revised, etc. legends ever. I was _living_ them.

Renewed spring in my step, I departed for Analizabell’s book. Merlin got the picture and went to wherever his source was.

It took me about five minutes to find my way out of the castle- I really didn’t know my way around the passageways. I rushed down to the little alcove where the book was, said the magic word, and found it, sitting on a nice little pedestal. This book was in pristine condition, as if it had never been touched. I opened it up.

The page was blank. Flipping through each and every page, they were all blank. This was totally pointless. Why would anyone want a blank book? It’s a waste of paper, leather, and everything else involved in the bindings to have a book that big without a use. After I reached the end, I flipped though again, just to make sure I didn’t miss a single detail. Sure enough, nothing.

I gave up, closed the book, and walked away.

And then the book’s magic showed itself.

I knew exactly what I needed to do. It was really simple. Or, so it seemed with the knowledge that that book gave me. I needed to get back to the castle quickly. Warrington had another reason to wait and present the bottle. The spell would be unbreakable an hour after it was cast. After then, you could only ward off the effects, but never get rid of them.

I ran into Merlin on the way back; he was sprinting just as I was, but from what appeared to be the nearby caverns.

“So?” I asked.

“My source said that you already know everything you need,” he said.

“That book isn’t _of_ magic, it _is_ magic,” I said. “It was completely blank to the eye, I looked at every page twice. But as soon as I looked away to leave, thinking that it had nothing in it, I knew everything we needed to know. And we need to act fast. Did your source say anything else?” I knew sometimes people threw in random information, and it could be useful.

Merlin hesitated. “Nah. Well, he did talk more, but it was only incomprehensible riddles.”

Hmmm… I’ll have to find out about those later. Right now, we’ve got a big job. I explained the plan.

“And you’re sure this will work?” Merlin asked when I was done.

“Yeah, well, it’s the most logical way, based on the information the book gave me. It’s that or just keep the side effects at bay, and I don’t think we need Arthur becoming as drowsy as Uther is wacko.”

“Agreed.”

We made it back to the kitchens and discovered that we weren’t missed. Nothing much had happened, besides that goblets were emptied and refilled a few times and peoples’ plates were a bit less full. Merlin resumed his duties, keeping Arthur happy, while I went ahead and went over my plan. Warrington had to be keeping the bottle somewhere, so I just needed to find it. As soon as I found it, I’d just need to say the (literally) magic words, and it’d just be regular wine. No harm done, Arthur just gets a good drink. Which, I’m sure he’s already had plenty of.

I went ahead and made sure that no platters were in need of replacing anytime soon and decided to start my search for the bottle. It would either be with Warrington or in the corridor outside the main entrance to the hall. Personally, I hoped it was in the hall, because that would make my life a whole lot easier.

Luck was on my side. Of course, I had to find my way to the main entrance, those corridors were rather labyrinthine, but it was just sitting on a table. A bit too easy, if you asked me, but, I wasn’t complaining about it. Now to counter Warrington.

“Vienoc, ve nuh har ne guial,” I said, this time meaning it, and not sure how I knew what to say. As soon as I finished the sentence, I felt a surge of power coursing through me. I also felt that everything had worked; the wine would have no side-effects at all, besides the general drunkenness.

“Ah, yes, I feared you’d do that,” the voice that could only belong to Warrington said. “You had a good idea at heart, but, sadly, you’ve lost. Yes, I knew you were suspicious of me, and that you had magic. Don’t think I don’t know who you’ve followed and met. Lord Eldre has spies everywhere. He’d want you, but I’m nice, so I’ll give you a few options. Option one: you can peacefully come to Lord Eldre. No guarantees on what he’ll do from there, but you’ll be safe until then. Option two: I can run you through with a sword. Or, option three: I can hand you over to Uther, who I’m sure will be very enthusiastic in arranging your death. You can pick whichever.”

I made a very irrational decision, but one that I could expect myself to make, given the three “Would You Rather” options that I didn’t like. “I’m taking option four. I live, and your life is questionable.” Some words from another language came out of my mouth. Warrington fell asleep on the spot, rather cutely curled up in a little ball, snoring. I tucked the bottle of wine into his arms like a little doll. I’m not sure where the words came from, another, instinct in the back of my mind, maybe added in by the book. It does seem to know a lot. Whatever it was though, it had a magical effect on him.

The feast went on in its same brilliant manner, but Knight Warrington was missing. From the tidbits of conversation I could pick up, everyone was really quite glad he was gone, which meant I had done a public service.

The following morning, Knight Warrington was nowhere to be seen. He seemed to disappear into thin air. I had a hunch that his precious Lord Eldre had whisked him away in the night due to his failure, and defeat by a sixteen year-old girl who knows next to nothing about medieval life. His sudden departure was taken as a withdrawal from the tournament and Arthur blazed his way through to the finals, which he won, to everyone’s expectations.

There was a fabulous feast to celebrate his victory, and people were talking about Warrington’s disappearance. A servant asked me about it, I just smiled and said nothing. To my joy, the servant who asked me wondered why in the world I smiled so knowingly and started a rumor that Warrington had cornered me, I had gotten hold of a sword, and had beaten him in one on one combat, to such a point that he was incapable of battle. He had then fled in the middle of the night for his home in some distant kingdom. Or so went the version that I heard from Gwen that evening. I let her believe it, simply because she liked it and I liked my life as it was. And, well, it would be nice while it lasted that people feared me- the girl who walked into the oven, recovered, and beat a knight in combat in the hallways of the castle. I made a mental note to relate the real story to one person, Merlin, probably the person who knew the most about my identity, simply because it seemed a good idea we be on the same page, both of us on a mission to keep a certain few people alive, and because I’m sure he’d get a laugh out of how the rumor deviated from the story. I know my modern friends would.


End file.
